


one hop this time

by ritokki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, and they were ROOMMATES, happy yangyang day!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritokki/pseuds/ritokki
Summary: Yangyang really wanted to punch whoever said falling in love was easy.





	one hop this time

**Author's Note:**

> here u go ,, another fic i wrote to procrastinate my hyuckhei fic i promise i'll finish soon 😭😭
> 
> anyway this is my baby i had the idea for this at 3am on a tuesday and i just RAN with it ehehhe
> 
> happy yangyang day!! i wanted to get this uploaded yesterday (10/10/19) but i was. so tired and it's literally almost the twelfth but STILL IT COUNTS
> 
> enjoy!!

At first, it was nothing. 

They were strangers, connected by only the dorm they shared - no red strings, no meant-to-be meetings, no love-at-first-sight.

When Yangyang first bumped into Dejun, even as he tripped on the carpet and went flying straight into Dejun’s arms, he felt nothing but an appreciation in the more  _ physical _ area. (Plus a healthy dose of utter mortification, but when you’d just nearly bowled over one of the most attractive people you've ever met, it was to be expected.)

“Shit, I'm so sorry,” Yangyang wheezed out, still short of breath. He put his weight onto the suitcase in his hand - the last one, thank  _ god  _ \- head down as he gasped for breath.

He couldn't see Dejun’s face, but he could only imagine it was a picture. “It’s fine… are you okay? You wanna sit down or…” he trailed off, and Yangyang lifted his head, standing up straight. “No, no, I'm okay.” He dismissed the concern in Dejun’s expression with a wave. Hands on hips, he stood perfectly still, willing the ache away, but deflated as fatigue began to catch up to him. He sighed. “On second thought, I’ll take you up on that.”

“Uh, right.” Dejun opened the door, leading Yangyang to the sofa. Yangyang took that as a clue for him to lie down and did so with a pained groan and grateful glance at Dejun, who flushed slightly before awkwardly motioning to the open-plan kitchen and disappearing. There was the tell-tale click of the kettle, and soon the smell of freshly-brewed green tea spread throughout the apartment. 

“So--” Dejun began-- “what’s your name? I’m Xiao Dejun.” He returned with a mug in each hand, handing one to Yangyang as he pulled himself into a sitting position to take it with both hands. The ache drained from his muscles after the second sip, and he peeled his eyes open to spy Dejun in the armchair adjacent, staring at him curiously.

“I’m Liu Yangyang. Your roommate, I’m guessing. Thanks for the tea!” 

Dejun seemed to snap out of his daze and jumped slightly. “Oh- it’s no problem. Don't worry about it.” A silence fell on them. Yangyang was in the middle of thinking about something to spark conversation when Dejun blurted out: “why were you running?”

Yangyang clicked his fingers, setting his mug onto the side table. He took a moment to swallow. “I promise I have an actual reason, I'm not  _ just  _ a madman.” he pauses. “I mean I'm  _ not  _ a madman. That’s more Donghyuck’s expertise.” 

“Donghyuck?”

“Lee Donghyuck, the object of my eternal suffering. He was also my ride here  _ and  _ the reason I had to almost  _ die  _ to protect my honour.”

“If you died running from the carpark to here, I think you should go see a doctor,” Dejun commented, grinning slightly.

Yangyang furrowed his brows. “If I died-”

“You know what I mean!” Dejun rolled his eyes when Yangyang winked, laughing. “Just explain before my tea gets cold.”

“Yeah, so-” he interrupted himself, praying for it to get a reaction out of the other, who seemed to be warming up to him. “Hey, what brand is this-”

Smiling widely, Dejun laughed. “Dude!”

“Okay, okay! Long story short, I made a bet with Hyuck - bad idea, by the way, don't ever do that - that I could run up the stairs with my luggage and, like, I did! Look!” he gestured to the large pile of boxes just outside the door with both hands.

After a moment of careful deliberation, looking between Yangyang and the boxes, Dejun spoke up, and somewhat sagely said: “you look like the Will Smith meme.”

Yangyang wasn't in love with Dejun - but he sure as hell could've kissed him right then. Instead, he burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he struggled to return to sanity.

At that point, it was nothing - he wasn't anywhere near ‘in love’. If anything, he was floating above it, safe in the friend-zone.

That didn't mean it couldn't be anything, though.

If Yangyang was floating before, now he had landed. He walked slowly on a path he didn't recognise, yet one he trusted. It was warm against the soles of his feet and lead to a place Yangyang didn't know. Like he was Dorothy, mindlessly following the yellow brick road towards a destination already decided for him.

In a non-metaphorical sense, the road was the ugly, ridged carpet that all apartment buildings loved to use, and the end destination was his apartment door. Behind which, Dejun should be studying or doing whatever he does before Yangyang comes hurtling in and disrupts his peace.

Over the past month, it had become a routine. Dejun’s classes began at eight in the morning and finished at midday, so he would grab lunch and go over the material for an hour or so before Yangyang’s classes finished an hour later. 

Today was slightly different.

“Hey!” Dejun yelled. Yangyang pulled his hand away from the handle, spinning around to see Dejun waving as he exited the elevator.

“Dejun, what’s up? You're late, today.” Dejun jogged up to him with a familiar smile on his face. It was rare for Yangyang to see him in anything other than lounge clothes - the black tunic-style shirt and suede jacket suited him, and his makeup seemed shinier than usual.

“Yeah, I went out for lunch. Kunhang and Xuxi keep trying to set me up with their friend, Sicheng.”

That explains it. “Oh. did it go well?”

“He’s a nice guy, but it was easy to tell both of us were just doing it so Kunhang and Xuxi didn't get upset.”

The relief Yangyang felt was inexplicable. Why was he so glad they hadn't hit it off? He reasoned that it’d be weird if Dejun started dating someone because then their routine would be thrown off-kilter. 

“You havent met them yet, have you?”

He hadn't even noticed Dejun was still talking, or that they were still standing outside. Scrambling to open the door, Yangyang beckoned Dejun inside and closed the door behind him in a series of clunky movements.

His trail of thought now lost, Yangyang tried his best to respond somewhat intelligently. “Uh, I don't think so. I’d like to though! They seem really fun.”

Dejun grinned at Yangyang from where he was hanging up his coat, and Yangyang unconsciously grinned back. He slipped his shoes off and threw his bag into his room, not even flinching at the horrific crashing sound it makes. He shrugged. He could clean it up later.

“They’re definitely  _ fun,  _ if that’s how you wanna put it. They’re also a lot of work, like a pair of puppies. Like you, actually.” Denjun planted himself on the sofa as Yangyang made an offended noise and hopped onto the arm so he could jab Dejun’s side with his foot.

“I’m not hard work!”

“You hid my shampoo last week!”

“You were over-shampooing! I had to intervene, for your sake.”

“Could you not have just said: ‘Dejun, you’re over-shampooing’?”

“I  _ could  _ have. But that’s less fun.”

“I’m too old for this.”

“You’re right. Hag.” 

“No words… no words.” 

They both collapsed into laughter that filled the room. Once he had recovered, Dejun stood up. “You want some tea?”

“Lemme guess - green?”

“It’s good!” Dejun protested. Yangyang groaned, rolling off the arm to lie on his back. The dramatics; always important.

It went quiet for a moment, and Yangyang suddenly regretted his decision to throw his arm over his eyes. This time, his theatreatics had damned him. He couldn't see Dejun’s expression, and his stubborn side refused to believe such a situation warranted ruining the act - it was just tea, right?

The next time anyone spoke, it was Dejun. “If you want to get something different, just tell me, yeah?”

Yangyang pulled the arm from his eyes and sat up, act forgotten. “That’s not what I meant-”

“Fine, but, in future. Keep it in mind. I've seen you prancing around half-naked at 3 AM - I think we’re past those kinds of courtesies.

Maybe it was the way he phrased it or just Dejun’s stupidly soft and emotive voice, but Yangyang almost wanted to tear up. 

“Okay. Thank you. Can I take you up on that tea offer, anyway?”

“Of course you can. I only have green, though.” Dejun fake-pouted with such unnecessary energy, Yangyang couldn't help but cackle as he trailed after Dejun.

He pulled himself onto the counter while Dejun busied around, boiling water and grabbing mugs; the usual hassle. Dejun had mentioned many times how tea bags were ‘cheating’ and he insisted on using loose tea leaves, steeping them in a teapot, and using a strainer to remove the leaves afterwards. It was a whole ritual, and Yangyang liked to watch. Not because of how cute Dejun looked when he was concentrating, no. Definitely not. (Maybe a little.)

“So,” Yangyang only dared to speak once Dejun had put on his timer - three minutes, exactly, “when can I meet your friends?”

“You really want to?”

“Uh, yeah? Duh. I said before, they seem cool.”

“Even Kun?” Dejun seemed unnecessarily surprised. Yangyang didn't like it, not one bit.

“ _ Especially  _ Kun! He’s like, if Johnny wasn't lame.”

“I don't know about that, Kun’s pretty lame.”

“He has bleached hair. Thats  _ cool.” _

Dejun’s voice was quiet. “If I bleached my hair, would I be cool?”

“You’re already cool,” Yangyang said. He tried to hide the confusion from his voice, but his frown was hard to disguise. 

“Really?”

Yangyang nodded. “Cooler than Renjun, definitely. Not as cool as me, though.” 

“Aren’t I kind of boring?”

“Boring? Are you mad? Dejun, you’re awesome! You take  _ physics  _ and still have time to sing, write, dance - that’s not something a boring person could do. Period.” 

“Period?” 

“Pe-ri-od.” 

Dejun smiled, just a little. “Thanks, Yang.”

It was impossible to mistake the feeling - a fluttering in his chest, a strange lightness that took over his whole body. Dejun’s alarm started blaring out “You Give Love A Bad Name”, and he was back on the ground before he could dwell on it.

Little did he know, just how familiar that feeling would become.

Running - a desperate attempt to escape the fate he knew was coming, the final stretch of denial.

Yangyang had often been told how relationships never worked out until you were older, but Mark and Donghyuck were the two most grossly in love people Yangyang had ever seen, and neither of them was much older than him. So, that was bullshit. 

But, when faced with the burning question, “do you have a crush on Dejun?”, Yangyang wasn't too sure if he wanted it to be true. Waiting to start a relationship meant that present-Yangyang got off scot-free; it was future-Yangyang’s problem. But, it then occurred to him that one day, future-Yangyang would be present-Yangyang, and then he’d be stuffed.

So, he was at a crossroads.

That ‘feeling’ from all those weeks ago kept coming back, and he knew that all of his friends had already noticed. Even Jeno, and it took Jeno five years to realise that his two best friends - who were dating each other - had a crush on him. Thus was the birth of NoRenMin, also known as MarkHyuck’s task force. Well, more like Donghyuck’s task force - most of the time, Mark was replacing Johnny and trying to make sure the four of them didn't accidentally blow up the entire world with their schemes.

Usually, Yangyang was part of that. But recently, he was their target.

“Hey, Yang. what’s up?” Yangyang didn't know how Jaemin got into his apartment and he was not too inclined to figure it out. It was 8:30 AM on a Friday, and Yangyang was running on fumes. Fumes, and a whole lot of store-bought coffee.

“I have a test in two hours. And yes, I pulled an all-nighter.”

“You look like it,” Jeno said. Yangyang almost flinched -  _ almost. _ He wasn't awake enough to have any real, human inhibitions. Instead, he sighed and made his way to the kitchen. 

The intruders trailed after him, and Yangyang sighed, “Where’s Renjun? Who sent you?”

Jaemin gasped, somehow offended. “No one  _ sent us-  _ Renjun’s at dance practise.”

“We were gonna ask if you wanted to come to the arcade with us after class?” Jeno asked.

“Can't,” Yangyang yawned, “‘m meeting Dejun’s friends today.”

The two of them shared a look that Yangyang couldn't decipher if he tried. Couple privileges. 

Then Jaemin just  _ had  _ to open his stupid,  _ stupid,  _ mouth and force Yangyang into a premature mid-life crisis. 

“You have a crush on Dejun, right?”

With that one question - not that it even really  _ was  _ a question, that much was obvious from Jaemin’s tone - Yangyang felt every mental barrier he had ever constructed come tumbling down.

“What are you-” he cut himself off when he spotted a bright green post-it note stuck onto the microwave. In Dejun’s unmistakable handwriting, it read:

_ sorry for distracting you last night :( I made u breakfast to make up for it tho!! good luck on ur test :D  _

_ \- dejun _

He was suddenly reminded of yesterday evening when he had ditched his engineering textbooks in favour of playing Mario Kart with Dejun for three hours. A poor decision on his part, but  _ definitely  _ worth it. He hadn't even thought Dejun was aware of his test. There’s a moment of realisation, that Dejun must’ve seen him studying in the morning, and somehow managed to make a whole stack of pancakes without disrupting his concentration, and Yangyang can only say one thing:

“Shit. I do have a crush on him.” 

Jaemin and Jeno high-fived. 

“I think we should go. Good luck with Dejun’s friends!” Jeno said.

As Jaemin was dragged out the door by his boyfriend, Yangyang stood motionless in front of the microwave, mind empty.

The door slammed closed and he snapped out of his daze, suddenly remembering that his first class started in twenty minutes. Campus was a fifteen-minute walk away.

Yanyang grabbed his pancakes and headed out, leaving his crisis at the door.

Yanyang meeting Dejun’s friends went a little like this: he entered the restaurant, confidence somewhat boosted by the 70% he got on his engineering test but more by having Dejun at his side. Despite this, as soon as he laid eyes on the table waiting for them, his stomach dropped. 

Yangyang was a naturally sociable person. Maybe even as much as Donghyuck or Jaemin. But for some reason, it  _ really  _ felt like he was meeting the in-laws for the first time. In short; he was absolutely, positively  _ shitting himself. _

But, one second after he stepped foot into the restaurant, he was barreled over by a pair of human puppies that Yangyang decided he much preferred over his current nightmarish friends; almost shat himself when Kun brought him in for a far gentler hug; had a spiderman meme moment with Johnny’s best friend, Ten, and met Sicheng, who had since integrated himself into the group. Turns out, both Kun, and Sicheng’s boyfriend, Yuta, were in Johnny’s humanities class; Yukhei was in Mark’s and Donghyuck’s music class and had a crush on both of them, and Kunhang was reportedly growing a garden in his shower.

To conclude: Dejun’s friends were  _ weird  _ and Yangyang decided he loved them. It wasn’t difficult - Dejun was the same when he met Yangyang’s friends all those weeks ago. (It wasn't planned; they broke in. Even Johnny.)

Now, Yangyang had two things. A crush on Dejun and, judging by the look Kun gave him when he offered Dejun his jacket, the approval of his friends.

The question was: what now?

Next, Yangyang tripped. Not physically (he does that enough on his own), but tripping in that, no, he wasn't falling in love with Dejun. But, damn, he was close. One more toothy smile and Yangyang might just have to smooch.

Yangyang was stuck. He had two choices: not do anything and keep their relationship as it was, leading to an indefinite period of silent suffering, or he could take a leap of faith.

Really, the answer was obvious. And when it came to such things, there was really only one person he could trust.

“ _ Hey _ , Renjun. You got a minute?”

The line crackled as Renjun sighed.  _ “I guess I do now. More boy troubles?” _

“Uh, yeah. Kinda? I need a plan to ask Dejun out, so if you could work your magic, then-”

_ “Shit, seriously? You finally admitted it?”  _

“Did Jeno and Jaemin really not tell you?”

_ “What? They knew? What the fuck! I owe Donghyuck now, oh my god.”  _ There was some rustling from Renjun’s side and a distant voice that definitely sounded like Donghyuck.

Yangyang rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Why am I not surprised.”

_ “I didn't think you'd have the balls!”  _ Yangyang made an attempt to retort, but Renjun cut him off. _ “Dejun was always way more obvious, anyway.” _

“Huh?”

_ “Fuck- I’ve said too much.”  _ The line crackled momentarily. A muffled yell was all he heard before Renjun’s side fell silent. Then, just moments later, Renjun’s voice sprouted from the speaker once again.  _ “Sorry, Donghyuck tackled me. He also said he’d dismantle my clue board if I spilt anymore and I really don't wanna underestimate him after he moved my Moomin collection into the air vent. So, bye Yang. Hyuck says hi.” _

The line went dead. 

“Fuck.”

“Is something wrong?” Yangyang hadn't even noticed the door opening, let alone Dejun entering. He had left to get cereal after Yangyang’s insistent whining, even if it was 9AM on a Saturday. If Dejun was anyone else, he would’ve made Yangyang go himself, or just refused outright, but Dejun was Dejun. Xiao Dejun, whose hand Yangyang would 100% like to hold throughout the scariest of movies. Or just in general.

Yangyang studied Dejun’s expression for a moment. Confusion, tiredness, and something soft enough to completely take the edge away from his sharp features. He then said, “Fuck it. Dejun, will you go on a date with me?”

Dejun didn't hesitate, just looked Yangyang in the eye and said, “Sure. How’s lunch at that Chinese place down the road?”

“That’s- okay?” Yangyang was confused. He asked the question and got an answer, but he was still very, very confused. Did everyone react so casually when their roommate asked them out on a date, or was that just a Dejun thing? Maybe it was a Yangyang thing. Yangyang didn't know. What?

“Cool, cool.” Dejun placed the cereal box on the kitchen counter and threw up a peace sign. “I’m gonna go study for my maths test now.”

Yangyang scrambled to his feet so he could talk to Dejun over the back of the sofa. “Just to check, this is like- like, a  _ date  _ date. Romantic date.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh. cool.” There was at least three foot between them, and it was just starting to turn cold, but Yangyang felt impossibly warm in the cheeks. Shock and embarrassment made for a great natural blush; he’d have to pass that information onto Donghyuck. Or maybe not. Donghyuck would immediately tell the others - the others being NoRenMin and “the hags”, consisting of Mark and Johnny - and the others would then proceed to hold it against him for the rest of his life. So, scrap that. He was much more concerned that Dejun was rounding the sofa with an unreadable expression. 

What was going on? Dejun wouldn’t trick him, tell him it was all fake, right? That’d be way out of character. But somehow, the more Yangyang thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Not for the first time, he cursed his racing mind.

“You’re so cute,” Dejun cooed and crossed the distance between them to pinch Yangyang’s cheek. Yangyang let out the breath he was holding and Dejun laughed, bright and free, and ruffled his hair before excusing himself to study. “If I haven’t surfaced in five hours, call an ambulance. Or a funeral director, because my brain is definitely going to implode.”

“Will do,” Yangyang replied in the most unconvincing tone. He caught sight of Dejun’s raised brow for a split second, but it soon disappeared behind Dejun’s bedroom door and Yangyang promptly collapsed onto the sofa.

There, a single thought raced through his mind.

“What do I  _ wear?” _

After changing into an outfit he liked, swapping it entirely at least thrice, and getting his friends’ approval (that part took a while: Jaemin wouldn't stop going on about how  _ obvious  _ it was, Donghyuck and Renjun were the same, and Mark and Jeno were no help. He’d ended up watching an entire episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine before the notifications from their group chat had calmed down.), Yangyang sat at his desk and stared at his computer screen. Three ongoing projects, zero finished. Due Wednesday.

He tried, he  _ really  _ tried. But what brain wants, brain do, and brain did  _ not  _ want to do projects. Brain wanted to eat chinese food with Dejun. Brain wanted to go on a date with Dejun. Brain wanted to be boyfriends--

Brain was getting ahead of themself. So, rather than even pretending to do anything productive, Yangyang crossed his legs under him and pushed his desk chair into the middle of the room. He then did what he called “spin thinking”, where he spun, and he thought.

Yangyang thought about dating Dejun. How much would change? Not much, he guessed. PDA, maybe, but Dejun wasn't exactly a touchy person in public and Yangyang didn't want to force him. That being said, they  _ were  _ roommates, sharing a living space-- 

Before Yangyang could ponder over what that could entail, his stomach growled. He checked the time - 1 PM. Lunch time. Also, five hours since Dejun had sentenced himself to study. Hesitantly, Yangyang peeled himself off his chair and peered around his half-open door. 

It was an unspoken rule, that the only time they closed their bedroom doors was when they were changing, so Yangyang could just see Dejun’s figure through the sliver of the open door. He wasn't studying. Rather, he was spinning on his chair mindlessly as he stared up toward the ceiling. Deja vu; Yangyang had to clamp his mouth shut to prevent himself from saying something weird.

“Still alive?” he asked instead. 

Dejun seemed to snap out of his trace at that. “I think? Probably.” 

“Do you… wanna head out?”

Dejun stood up with a start. “Oh, fuck! Yeah, lemme just- uh, clothes! Yes, good.”

“Haha, yeah.” this wasn't normal. The air between them - it wasn't right. Sure, Yangyang could be a little awkward with strangers, but Dejun was the farthest from a stranger to him. To him, Dejun was the Cha Cha Slide; a staple, something irreplaceable and something in which he associates only the best memories.

This awkwardness, to Yangyang’s utter despair, continued.

They walked to the restaurant in near silence, and Yangyang found himself desperately checking his phone every five seconds but of course, his notifs had never been drier. Arrival was mercifully close - Yangyang silently swore to make conversation once they were seated.

Before he realised, they were seated and Yangyang had no idea how to start.

For a brief moment, as he stuttered through what was definitely not appropriate ‘date convo’, he thought he’d made a mistake.

Then, Dejun sneezed so hard he almost fell off his chair, knocking pepper salt all over the table and upon seeing it, rushed to grab a pinch and chuck it over his shoulder.

“No bad luck on  _ my  _ watch,” he huffed, settling down.

Half a second later, when his brain had finally managed to process whatever the  _ fuck  _ just happened, Yangyang cackled loud enough to draw the attention of the table next to them: a tourist couple whose quiet lunch had now been disrupted. If any of his inhibitions were working, Yangyang probably would have felt bad. But he didn’t. Dejun soon joined in, and miraculously, everything fell into place after. 

Conversation found its way between them with ease, and Yangyang would have to an absolute idiot to miss Dejun’s flirty remarks. They flustered him at first, but Yangyang was a master of adaptation. It only took him a moment to remember how to speak, and he was off. 

The tables turned like a spinning top. Dejun grinned with pink cheeks as Yangyang sprouted off all the things he’d been thinking since day one, the thoughts he’d pushed down and ignored, the words that had kept him awake at night, afraid of what he might see in his dreams. 

Now, that dream was right in front of him.

Finally, Yangyang fell. 

It wasn't nearly as frightening as he imagined; even as the ground gave way under his feet and the world around him disappeared, even as the path he had followed so religiously became lost in a world above - he wasn't afraid. Because as he fell, warmth wrapped around him. An invisible safety net appeared beneath him, so even as he fell, he knew he was safe.

In reality, the moment went something like this:

“Hey, Yang, where are the beans?” Dejun said, poking his head around the pillar that separated the kitchen from the living room. His hair poked in every direction, flopping in his face as he blew air from his mouth to push it away, and his sleep shirt was just barely staying on his shoulders. It was so incredibly mundane, nothing amazing, and Dejun looked just as attractive as he always did, so why was it then that the penny dropped? In a single instant, Yangyang went from  _ “liking”  _ to  _ “in love”,  _ and Dejun was still there, waiting patiently for Yangyang to reveal where he’d hidden the beans.

“I love you.”

He didn't even realise he was saying it until Dejun looked at him, laughter barely concealed, and said: “I love you, too. But I also would really love some beans right now.”

“Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure they’re in the air vent?”

“The air vent? Why on earth-”

“Blame Donghyuck!” Yangyang threw his hands up in surrender. “He gave me the idea.”

Dejun shook his head and stage-whispered, “Of all the people I could have fallen for, it had to be the one that hides my beans.”

Not wanting his brilliance to be downplayed, Yangyang immediately protested. “Hey! I’m not just a bean thief; I also hid your green tea leaves.”

“Liu Yangyang! Bring me my leaves and my beans, please.”

“Hm,” Yangyang fake-considered. “Okay, but only if you gimme a kiss.”

Dejun grinned, void of annoyance. “I think I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh i hope u enjoyed!! they r so cute i LOVE
> 
> [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/ritokki)  
[my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.me/ritokki)


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